The Christmas Gift
by the ramblin rose
Summary: Cyreese ZA/AU. Season 4. The love they had between them was the best Christmas gift ever, but there was always room for a few more surprises.


**AN: So, I got an anon request that wanted smutty Cyreese. Hardly anybody ever wants Cyreese, and sometimes I just need to indulge my Cyreese feels. **

**Here you have it. I'm putting a warning on it because it's smutty.**

**I own nothing from the Walking Dead.**

**It should be said that Lizzie is not crazy here, and they never went to Terminus.**

**I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think! **

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Tyreese could honestly say that he had settled into their life.

They had settled into their life.

It had been accidental, and none of them had meant to end up here, but this was where they were and, all things considered, it was a good life.

He had never imagined that he would be the father to three little girls—none of them biologically his or their "mother's," but that was the hand that life had dealt him.

All of them had started this adventure at the end of the world with a whole group of people—several groups, in fact, all merged together. They'd lost the group, though, when a madman had tried to kill them all.

Over time, they'd settled into the little farmhouse they now called home. They'd settled into the simple and quiet routine of their day-to-day lives. They'd spent their first month or so there trying to learn one another—and trying to forgive one another, where it was necessary, for their pasts. But, quickly, they'd accepted that they were to be a family and, as such, they should figure out how to make things work.

Carol was a force to be reckoned with. She had her shortcomings, and Tyreese would never say that she was absolutely perfect, but he was beginning to see her as more and more perfect with each passing day. The one thing he could say without a doubt, though, was that she loved fiercely and ferociously, and she was loyal beyond measure.

She was also smart and designed to live in this world.

But, for as hard as she could be when life required it, she was also soft and sweet. She was a wonderful mother.

So, they had spent their time before the winter came gathering food. Tyreese built a smokehouse and Carol canned, cured, and stored up everything she could. They both hunted. They both worked to build up the fences surrounding the farm. They taught their two oldest girls—Mika and Lizzie—how to care for the baby, Judith, and how to help out with all the chores around the farm. They prepared to grow their own food once the winter passed.

By the time that winter had hit them, hard, they were ready to survive it with confidence.

And, beyond surviving, they were ready to enjoy it.

Tyreese had brought in the tree and set it up. Carol had led the girls in stringing popcorn for the decorations and she'd found some glass balls and a few ornaments in the attic.

They led them in festive evenings by singing Christmas carols with the girls, and Tyreese put puzzles together with them while Carol filled evenings with having them help her bake.

On the few runs that they made, they found and hid toys to prepare for a perfect Christmas for the girls—all three of them—and they'd wrapped and hidden the spoils in the attic. There would be a doll for Mika that she was going to love beyond measure. It would be her own baby to take the place of Judith when the little one got cranky from being dragged around. There were colored blocks for Judith and a teddy bear that she could cuddle. For Lizzie, they'd found her some Legos and engineering toys that would promote keeping her hands busy and her mind active.

For all of them, they'd stocked up on treats to prepare with Carol, games and puzzles to play as a family, books to share, and art supplies for creativity.

Carol had lovingly wrapped all the spoils and Tyreese had quietly brought them down from the attic and put them around the living room once they'd tucked in the girls and Carol had wished them all sweet dreams of the treasures that Santa would leave them—a Santa who still managed to work his magic even though the world had seemed to well and truly end around them.

Carol was an amazing mother.

And she was an incredible wife.

And Tyreese loved her so much that he ached to even be apart from her when they took turns going on runs so that the girls were never left entirely without a parent.

But, so far, their marriage—if it was anything more than a word of teasing they used to explain the close relationship that was growing between them during the year that they'd spent together—was not at all physical.

Carol feared him—or so he thought.

He could hear the difference in her breathing when he drew near and, once, he'd felt her tremble as he'd pulled her close to him for a hug.

Hugs and chaste kisses, so far, were all she'd allowed him, and he hadn't pushed for more. Carol had once been married, as had he, in a world that seemed gone for so long that it was hardly more than memory. For Tyreese, that marriage had been a dream. It had been a wonderful, beautiful experience that had taught him about love and had left him hoping to find something so incredible again, especially if God were granting wishes. For Carol, on the other hand, she'd been tortured at the hands of an abusive husband that had used and mistreated her body cruelly and under some sick guise of love.

In Tyreese, the same strength that she praised when he hauled their tree inside, moved their furniture, or carried her back to the house when she'd sprained her ankle, was brute strength that she feared when her mind conjured up memories of her ex-husband.

Tyreese had only touched her tenderly, and he'd promised her, quietly and repeatedly, that he would never touch her any other way.

But he wouldn't push.

He would rather love her as he did—as openly as he did—than scare her into keeping her distance.

Tyreese tossed another log into the fire. He was certain that they wouldn't sleep much that night. He could feel it. They would stay up and wait for the morning. They would enjoy the quiet anticipation of the night while the girls slumbered in their beds—afraid to creep out of their rooms out of concern that they might scare Santa Clause away.

Carol was already curled up on the couch, half-wrapped in the blanket she'd brought in there. In the flicker from the fireplace, she looked like an angel.

And Tyreese's entire body burned, once more, with the familiar desire that rose up like the fire flames from time to time.

He walked over to his chair and slipped his hand into the pocket on the side of the chair. Normally he stored books there. He rummaged deep down in it and came up with the box that he'd placed there, in a hurry, to keep none of the ladies of his life from seeing it. It practically fit inside his hand, and he closed his fingers around it as he moved to the couch.

Carol smiled at him as he walked over. She shifted a little and patted the couch cushion next to her.

"Want to share my blanket?" She asked. It was rhetorical, because she flicked the blanket over him when he sat, before he had the chance to answer her.

Tyreese uncurled his fingers and held the box balanced on his palm. It was wrapped in a bit of paper that he'd found—not wrapping paper because she'd used that for the girls and would have noticed if even a small square had gone missing.

"What's that?" Carol asked.

Tyreese laughed to himself.

"I think we used to call them Christmas presents," Tyreese said.

"I didn't get you anything," Carol said.

"Just open it?" Tyreese pressed, offering the box toward her again.

"It isn't Christmas," Carol said.

"It might be," Tyreese said. "For all we know, tomorrow isn't Christmas either. Carol…"

She took the box and her cheeks ran pink in the firelight. Tyreese held his breath as she tore away the paper and sat staring at the little box for a half a second. He almost expected her to throw it back at him, but she cracked the top open. He couldn't see it, but he knew what was inside—two gold bands. One for her, and one for him.

"You would say the diamond wasn't practical," Tyreese offered.

"Rings aren't practical," Carol said.

"They're just promises," Tyreese said.

"Of what?" Carol asked.

Tyreese took the box. He pulled the ring free that would fit his finger and offered it to her before he offered her his left-hand ring finger.

"That I'll always, always be here for you," Tyreese said. "And the children."

Carol smiled to herself. She slipped the ring on his finger and he saw her visibly swallow. She took her own ring from the box and offered it to him. Her fingers trembled, but he would never tell her that he saw that. He would never make her feel anything less than invincible—her ex-husband, after all, had beaten her down enough to last for the rest of her life.

"What do you promise?" He asked, working her hand in his while he waited.

She smiled at him.

"To always be here for you," Carol said. "And the children."

Tyreese slipped the ring on her finger. She looked at it and smiled.

"Merry Christmas," Tyreese said. "Though—I do have a pretty important question." She hummed in question. She looked at him with those big blue eyes and it was all he could do to sit calmly there beside her on the couch and not to tell her how desperately he wanted her—not to scare her. "Would you keep your last name or take mine? Not that it matters."

"I would take yours," Carol said. "I guess—it would wipe away the last bit of evidence that Ed had ever existed."

"I'd like to be the one to do that," Tyreese offered sincerely.

"What is it?" Carol asked with a laugh. "Our last name?"

"Williams," Tyreese offered.

"Maybe I could—paint it outside the door," Carol said. "In the spring. With the girls."

"I'd like that," Tyreese responded with a laugh.

Carol smiled at him and then, after a moment, she sighed. Her brow furrowed.

"I didn't get you anything," she said. "I didn't know we were doing presents."

Tyreese touched her cheek. He brushed his thumb across it. She didn't flinch. She didn't pull away and she didn't even close her eyes in the uncomfortable way that she once had. Still, he couldn't entirely wipe away the sadness she clearly felt over not finding him a present.

"I know what you can give me," Tyreese dared to venture. She raised her eyebrows in question. He smiled at her. "A kiss," he said. "As my wife. The new Mrs. Tyreese Williams."

Immediately her breathing picked up. Tyreese saw the change in the rise and fall of her chest. He saw her tense. He considered taking back the request, but he didn't.

It was a kiss. Only a kiss.

She nodded her head. She lifted herself enough to come toward him and she pressed a soft kiss against his cheek. He smiled to himself in response. If there were never any other kind of kiss, that would be enough. And if that were all there ever was, he would hope that her lips, pressed to his cheek or forehead, were the last sensations of life he had before slipping into whatever state of existence awaited him at his passing.

But it was Christmas, and he really did believe in Christmas miracles.

He caught her hand. Delicately, he pulled it to his lips and kissed her fingers. He opened her palm and kissed her palm. He kissed the soft skin at the underside of her wrist where there was a jagged scar from where she'd caught her arm on barbed wire earlier in the year and a barb had slipped under the cuff of her leather gloves to make him afraid that he might lose her.

He had stitched the cut himself while praying a prayer he remembered his grandmother praying—one that she swore would stop bleeding. It had worked.

He kissed the scar.

"A real kiss, Carol," he breathed. "Just this once. And I won't ask again. Not if you don't like it."

"I'm not very good," Carol breathed out. Her voice shook slightly.

Tyreese smiled to himself and his chest warmed. He wondered if she feared her own inadequacy as much as she feared him sometimes. Her ex-husband, after all, had likely left quite a bread-crumb trail of self-doubt behind.

"The worst kiss from you will be the best I've ever had," Tyreese assured her.

Carol smiled in spite of her nerves and nodded her agreement. Tyreese brushed his fingers against her cheek and she closed her eyes, but he could tell that it wasn't from fear. Not this time. This time it was because she wanted to savor the brush of his fingers. He brushed her lips with his fingertips and she puckered gently against them. He slipped his hand to the back of her neck and, when she tensed, he gently rubbed her skin to soothe her and remind her that the touch was a loving one.

He closed his own eyes when he brought their lips together. He would have accepted the most chaste school-girl kiss that she could have given him, but she seemed to enjoy the kiss. She came toward him, seeking more, and he allowed it. Testing the waters, he parted his lips and brushed hers gently with his tongue. Her breathing picked up, but she accepted his begged entrance to her mouth and he slid his tongue gently across hers.

Her hand touched the back of his neck and the other went to his back. As the kiss intensified, he felt her fingers dig slightly into his skin.

He rubbed her back, as well, and slowly dropped a hand to find where her long-sleeved pajama shirt ended. He slipped his hand under it. He touched the soft skin beneath it with his fingertips. She tensed and pulled out of the kiss a little.

"You say no, if you want," he breathed against her lips.

She didn't say no. Instead, she put her hands on his face and kissed him again. He let the trailing hand continue its journey. His heart pounded in his chest. His brain screamed out with desire and anxiety and happiness. His dick stirred like he was fourteen years old again and he shifted to keep it from somehow becoming noticeable to Carol in his pajama pants.

Under the shirt, Carol was wearing nothing, and his thumb ghosted over a nipple. A shiver ran through Carol's body as it rose to attention and stood hard against his thumb. He rubbed his thumb across it again and his other fingers felt her skin pucker around it in goose-flesh.

Carol moaned into his mouth and Tyreese broke the kiss and smiled against her lips. He dropped his other hand and found the bottom of her shirt. He pulled it upward and tugged at it when it caught.

"Just relax," he breathed out when Carol looked at him with some fear in her eyes. "You can say no, but—you might actually like it." Carol lifted her arms in response and let Tyreese rid her of the shirt he tossed over the back of the couch.

"The girls," Carol breathed out.

Tyreese accepted her concern and, in that moment, he'd do absolutely anything that she required him to do for her to be comfortable. He was almost certain that he knew no bounds.

He stood up and eased his hands under her. She tensed and he shushed her quietly. She relaxed into him as he lifted her and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"What are you doing?" She asked.

"Taking you to the bedroom," Tyreese said.

They'd shared the same bedroom since they'd moved into the farmhouse to give the girls more space of their own. This was the first night that Tyreese could even imagine that they might not sleep there like brother and sister. The only relief he'd felt from any of his natural urges had come when he'd stolen time away from Carol, and he imagined that she'd done the same—though he didn't like to imagine it too much because it simply sent him searching for a time and place to take care of himself. At this moment, his body could barely contain its excitement over the potential of something more with the woman that he used as inspiration more often than he didn't. Carol might have felt his interest if her position had been different, but he didn't want to overwhelm her with too much, too fast.

"As always," he said, "you decide if we're going to sleep or…"

He didn't finish. He didn't have to. He carried her to the bedroom and nudged the cracked door open with his foot before he carried her inside. He closed the door behind them with his foot and flexed his hands a moment to feel her in his arms. The weight of her—the feeling of her body beneath his hands. The soft skin of her back where her shirt was lost—all of it drove him crazy. He focused on steadying his own breathing and was thankful that she could easily contribute the uptick in his breathing rate to the strain of carrying her.

He rested her on the bed and lit the lamp to bathe the room in dim light.

When he'd replaced the glass over the flickering flame of the lamp and adjusted the wick, he turned to find that Carol had pulled back the cover and she was sitting there, topless, on the bed, somewhat expectantly.

Her eyes had found the proof of his interest that his cotton pajama pants couldn't hide. She stared at him a second before she flicked her blue eyes up toward him. Her breasts, now that he could see them clearly, were beautiful and perfect. She had nipples that were small and round and shaped just like he hoped they would be—and they still stood at attention.

"I'm sorry," Tyreese said, laughing to himself. "Some things are—out of my control. I meant what I said. We can go to sleep. Your call."

Carol patted the bed.

Tyreese wrapped her in his arms even as he made space for himself on the bed and pushed her backward. He kissed her neck and licked a trail across her collarbone even as he accepted the space she made for him between her legs. She was breathing hard, and Tyreese didn't know if it was from arousal or anxiety as he licked her breasts and suckled her nipples.

"I will never hurt you," he promised, kissing his way down her stomach. His hands found the band of her pajama pants and he heard her breathing catch. "I promise," he assured her. "You're going to like every way I touch you. But if you want—I'll take my hands away right now."

Her response was to lift her hips to make it easier for him to slide her pants down. He took her panties with them. He dropped everything to the floor and kissed her thighs. She drew her legs up, but she didn't close them to him.

"I'm not very good," she breathed out.

He latched onto her in response and she moaned out her reply as her hands went in search of something to grab. Tyreese reminded himself that she would be sensitive. It may have been a while, after all, since she'd been with anyone—and he didn't imagine that she'd had many good experiences with her ex-husband. "Delicious," he growled out before he dropped his head and took his time working all the satisfaction from her body that he could.

He didn't expect the tears streaming out of the corners of her eyes when he came up after her orgasm, and wiping his mouth with his hand, kissed her again.

"It's good enough to bring a tear to my eye," he teased. "But—I don't want to make you cry."

"I'm sorry," Carol said. "It's just—I wasn't expecting…" she laughed to herself. "I wasn't expecting it to feel so…good."

Tyreese kissed her again. He dropped his hand to tease her and keep her interested. He moved his mouth to suck her breasts. He used one hand to work his shirt up and only paused a moment in his kissing to pull it over his head.

"Incredible," she said, her fingertips trailing over his chest. She'd seen him without a shirt before—many times—but maybe it was different for her when she was seeing him like that while he held a space for himself between her legs. She came to him requesting a kiss and he obliged. She kissed down his neck and he let her change her position to hungrily taste his skin.

He worked his way out of his pajama pants as much as he could without her noticing too much—almost afraid that he'd scare her away if she realized his hope that things might go as far as they possibly could.

She kissed him like they were teenagers making out—like she was starving as badly for his kisses as he'd been starving for hers—and he pushed her back on the bed. She went willingly and he kicked off his pants, quickly, when the kisses broke for a second.

Panting, she eyed him. He smiled at her.

"Still not too late," he assured her. "But—I won't lie. I'm hoping to hell you're not backing out now."

"I'm really bad," she offered again. Perhaps it was the final bread-crumb of terror left behind by her dead ex-husband. Maybe he could shatter every bit of self-doubt that the man had left there. He knew, well, that it would take years to undo the damage he'd done—especially since he'd spent years doing it. But at least he could get her through the night and, with any luck, he could get her through tomorrow night—and every night that followed until she found relief and trusted him entirely.

Tyreese slipped his fingers down to stroke her. He eased one inside of her and she let out a satisfied sigh. She closed her eyes to him in a somewhat relaxed way as he rubbed her. He slipped a second inside of her and she shifted, making space for him. She tensed around him, though, and he shushed her quietly and held her close to him. He kissed her again, still working her with his fingers, until he felt her relaxing and she bit his lip in pleasure.

"I have lube," Carol offered.

Tyreese backed away from her a moment. Laughter and surprise caught in his throat. The way she smiled at him—so pleased at shocking him—was always how she looked at him after teasing him heartily.

"Excuse me?" He asked.

"Lube," Carol said. "Lubricant. I have some. In the nightstand there. Bottom drawer."

Tyreese laughed to himself.

"Just in case?" He asked.

Carol shrugged her shoulders.

"I have toys," she said.

Tyreese laughed to himself.

"Of course, you do," he said, teasing her a little. He appreciated the feeling, though, that passed between them. He appreciated the teasing and her warm smile. It reminded him of everything wonderful in their relationship that had led them to this point. He retrieved the lube from the drawer and tossed it onto the bed before he picked up her toy to examine it.

"Put that back," Carol said. He laughed to himself.

"We're not close enough for me to admire your—purple penis, Carol?" Tyreese asked.

"Ty—please?" Carol asked. Her cheeks flushed red and he realized she was embarrassed. He nodded his head, returned the toy to the drawer, and closed it. There were things that weren't worth it, and teasing her right now wasn't worth it. The tender spot, he realized, must be another of the dead son of a bitch's bread-crumbs.

Tyreese spent a few moments kissing her until her breathing calmed a little from the erratic response to his finding her toy and returned to the aroused breathing she'd been doing earlier. He found the tube and squirted some onto his fingers. He worked her with his fingers until she she'd wrapped her legs around him and her heels were digging into him.

"Never be ashamed of your sexuality," Tyreese breathed out. "Or your purple penis, OK?"

This time Carol didn't look as embarrassed. Her lips were swollen. Her pupils were dilated. Her legs were open to him and her nipples were hard.

And she didn't look embarrassed because her desire won out over her embarrassment.

"You're bigger than it is," Carol offered, watching Tyreese as he coated himself with lubricant—all the while trying to lessen contact with his own dick because he didn't want to embarrass himself too much by coming ridiculously quickly.

"I promise, I'll go as easy as I can," Tyreese assured her. "But this might not be much of a show."

"Because it's been a long time?" Carol asked.

"Because I'm so damn attracted to you," Tyreese admitted. Carol laughed that sweet, tinkling laugh she had. "And it's been a long time."

"It's been a long time for me, too," she breathed out as Tyreese took his position over her and guided himself to her entrance. He pressed into her and she made something of a hiccupping sound at him, so he froze. Her fingers found his back. Her short nails scratched across his skin and he shivered in response. She relaxed around him. "Go ahead," she said. "More. I'm ready." Tyreese took her at her word. He kissed her the way she seemed to like to be kissed—slow and deep—and he slid into her equally as slowly.

Her legs on the back of his thigh held him still when he was as deep in her as he could be. For a moment, he stayed as he was. He teased her nipples with his tongue, he ran his tongue the length of her throat. He focused on the feeling of her hands behind him rather than the desire he had to move inside him. Slowly he felt the overwhelming tightness give way to relaxation.

And when she released him to move, and gave him permission to do the same, he did just that.

For her protests of being bad at this, he found her a more than satisfactory partner. She rocked with him, matching the rhythm that he set. She responded to his touches. She rubbed her hands over his body and she kissed him whenever he was close enough to allow it. She didn't protest any speed that he chose and she encouraged him with sounds of appreciation when he dropped a hand between them to offer her a little more support in reaching climax.

And when she came, she squeezed him hard enough that he thought he might actually lose consciousness a moment in the most desirable way possible.

He rolled her on top of him, afterwards, so that she would lie across him in the afterglow. She did, for a moment, remain completely limp and splayed there while they both searched for breath. Her fingertip lazily teased his nipple before she kissed his chest and then came seeking another kiss from his lips.

He smiled at her flushed cheeks as she hovered over him.

"Well—I told you I wouldn't," Tyreese said. "Did I hurt you?"

"A little," Carol said, raising her eyebrows at him. "At first. But—you made up for it. So, I'll forgive you."

Tyreese laughed to himself. He wrapped his arm around her to hold her against him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"It's the best kind of hurt I've felt in a while," Carol said. "I'm afraid the girls might've heard."

"We were pretty quiet," Tyreese said. "I think we can pass it off as a game or—we can have the whole birds and the bees conversation. It has to come sometime."

"I'd rather it not come on Christmas," Carol said with a laugh. Her face dropped a little.

"I'm still kind of sorry that I didn't get you a present," she lamented.

Tyreese laughed, shaking her body as he did.

"I got a wife," he said. "The best wife. And—she gave me the most incredible gift to…to consummate our marriage. I can't think of a better gift than that."

"Still, sex doesn't seem like a great gift," Carol said.

"Great sex is a great gift," Tyreese insisted. "Still—the best gift was the wife. The commitment in a world where love is all that really matters anymore."

Carol smiled at him.

"I do love you," she said.

It was the first time she'd said it, even though Tyreese had felt it radiating out from her many times.

"I love you, too," he assured her.

"And that's the best gift of all," Carol said, winking at him.

"Yeah," he agreed, drawing her in for a hug. "But don't discredit yourself. The sex was pretty damn good, too."


End file.
